Page 44

JAMES

A few minutes, that’s it. I let Ophelia burrow into my body for another few minutes.

I need those minutes to take care of her. So that’s what I do, carry her to our room and into our shower.

In our home.

While she was in the cell, I enjoyed her company. The mind games. How she depended on me. Her face lit up as soon as I slipped the gold key into the lock, and that was beautiful.

Convincing myself this was about sex and breeding her only lasted for so long.

This— she —is the real thing.

My arm is draped around her middle in the shower, pulling her to me. Close, where I can feel her. Where I can look at her gorgeous face up close.

Hot water cascades down our naked bodies. Ophelia’s body is hotter. Far more addictive.

The trust and longing in her eyes are my drug.

I’m careful as I lather shampoo into her hair. As I run the washcloth over her body.

Gently, I spin her, removing her bandage. I press my lips to the scar on her shoulder blades, staring at my initials, and kiss her again.

I spoil her.

For a few more minutes.

A womb. A pretty face. My salvation.

She’s not one thing or the other.

She’s all of it and more.

Ophelia is a diamond gleaming in the sunlight. A million facets, all of them reflecting the light. A stone formed out of hardship. Out of immense pressure.

Look at her now. Look at what she’s become.

My entire universe.

I’m never letting go. No matter what.

I’m the right man for her.

For better or worse.

For the time being, she gets to see my good side. She’s earned it, to have me drying her with a plush towel and bandaging her up.

I dress her in a pair of leggings and a long black T-shirt. A smile tugs at my lips from having her watch me put on gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

I’m being considerate, as comforting as possible when I carry her to the dining area and set the massive table for two. One seat next to the other so that I can have her within reach.

I never dreamed I could be addicted to another person’s pleasure. Their soft smiles. Their hand on mine.

I never imagined I’d be this consumed with protecting them.

Ruining the same thing my ancestors and Oliver’s have built isn’t just about me anymore.

Her life. Her next breath. Our future.

Together.

This is what it’s about.

The comfortable silence lasts until I put the dishes—except for her water glass, which is still half full—in the dishwasher.

She. Has. To be. Prepared.

I stand next to her chair. “Get up.”

She blinks, the movement slow. Her exhaustion is palpable. I could use some sleep too. At least for an hour.

No time.

“I said.” My hand is in her damp hair, pulling her out of the chair. Our enemies won’t be considerate. They won’t give a damn if the day wore her out. My dad sure didn’t. “Get. Up.”

“Your eyes.” Of course she sees through me. Notices the change in my mood. We’ve spent hours together. She’s observant. Clever. The perfect person to rule alongside me. “What did I do?”

“The pen to my neck was a good start.” My harsh tone, glare, and words help clear the confusion from her eyes. “I was still able to fuck you, though. I overpowered you. You’re not ready.”

“For what?” This question. The determination in her voice. She demands the truth.

She’s owed the truth.

“The last auction wasn’t supposed to happen.” I tug on her hair until she looks up, right into my eyes. “I’d figured Oliver would come to his senses. That together we could end this. He didn’t.”

No words come out of her mouth. No crying about how harsh I’m being. That’s a good sign—she’s studying her opponent. She’s stronger than the pain.

She makes it easy to open up to her, so I do. I tell her more in detail about the initiations, our bloodline, our traditions. I tell her more about the auction house, the business I consider taking down as well.

I’m ready to put this world behind me. Never look back.

We’ll decide on it later. Together.

“You’re more powerful than he’ll ever be.” Ophelia has no way of knowing that. Then again, I have to be the most fucked-up man she’s ever met. I guess that makes me the most powerful one in her eyes. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

My lips quirk to the side. “I would’ve if I thought he’d refuse.

I didn’t, and the element of surprise was gone.

Obliterated.” I tug harder on her hair, reminding her to stay alert.

“You should always have the edge on your opponents, and I lost mine that day. As soon as the words left my mouth, he turned suspicious. Since then, I had to wait for the right time to make his disappearance acceptable.”

Coward. Procrastinator. Loser. She could’ve called me any of those names.

None of that for Ophelia. If anyone understands me in this world, it’s her.

I’m going to kill Oliver and Camden on my terms. When the time is right.

When they least expect it.

Her jaw tics. Eyebrows lowering. She’s so expressive, I might as well be having a tour inside her mind. Watching her cogs spinning.

“I won’t be caught off guard again.”

“I know.” Her passion is tempting. I lower my lips to her jaw, brushing them along her soft skin, sucking on the area below her ear, groaning at her sweet shivering.

“What now?”

“There’s still the matter of stopping the forced pregnancies.

And you. I’m done locking you up in here like some dirty secret.

Problem is, you. Are. Not. Ready.” My shadow casts over her.

My eyes bore into hers. She’s hiding something.

“The picture I shoved in your face while I was fucking you? You were vulnerable. Exposed. You won’t be that person anymore around anyone else but me. I’m going to teach you to fight.”

“Like this?”

A stinging pain in my abdomen. The tip of a knife presses into me.

A knife I forgot to put away.

My nostrils flare. Her eyes shine brilliantly.

“I won. I’m ready.” She runs her teeth along her bottom lip, her voice shrill. Slightly unhinged. “Since we’re done and all, can you bend me over? All this murder talk gets me so hot. Please.”

Her instincts are sharp, having developed over years of needing to defend herself, I see. Sleeping with one eye open would do that to a person.

Mine are sharper. I spent plenty of nights wide fucking awake.

I flip her over, pushing her against the table. The movement is so quick that Ophelia loses her grip on the knife. The moment I hear it dropping on the floor, I pin my cock to her ass, locking my free hand around the back of her throat.

“This isn’t what I’d call ready.” I squeeze the air out of her while rubbing my thumb along her jaw. “This is raped, tortured, and murdered. If you’re lucky.”

“Please, don’t.” Her voice is off. Soft. Pleading. A lie. Then her ass presses to my dick. “Please, sir. Mercy.”

She’s seducing me. Hoping I’ll let her go. That I’ll postpone our classes. Not hap?—

“And this is fuck you .” Glass breaks. Catching me— me —off guard.

My mind’s still trying to make sense of the sound when a sharp shard is pinned to my forearm.

I got way too close to Ophelia. An oversight on my part.

Because even though she has her back to me, her hands are very much free.

“You’ll bleed out before you can get your dick out of your pants. ”

I don’t hesitate. Don’t fucking blink, tightening my grip around her neck.

Her eye that’s staring at me widens, mouth parting to suck in air. Fighting against my hold.

“James,” she chokes out. “What the fuck?”

“If you wield a weapon, Ophelia, you better be ready to use it.” My mouth twists in a snarl. “The pen you stuck into me? That was nothing. A scratch.”

She gasps. Steps on my foot over and over. Still holding the broken glass in place.

She’s failing. Not me, herself.

Unacceptable.

“This isn’t a game, damn it.” Adrenaline soaks my veins.

Her helplessness does that to me. But I don’t want that now.

I want her to do better. She can do better.

“Fight me. Fucking fight me. You won’t kill me.

I’ll—” I can hardly believe I’m about to say this.

“I’ll never leave you. But you have to do it. Cut me. Hurt me. Fight back, Sonnet.”

Her growl is agonized, then, there it is. There she is, nicking my skin. My hand stays exactly where it is until she plunges the broken shard deeper. Until the cut turns into a gash, and there’s a puddle of blood gathering on my table.

“Good girl.” I release the pressure on her throat, turn her around, placing her on the table. Stroking the length of her neck. “Such a good girl.”

“Fucker.” She sucks in a deep breath, tilting her head to stare up at me.

Then she continues what she started.

I let her cut me up to my elbow, smirking at the gory sight, then I let go of her throat to rip it from her hand and toss it across the room.

“You’re such an asshole, James.”

“Am I?” I tug on her hair. Just enough to tip her head back. For her to be within reach. So I can kiss her for being so good.

That’s the most affectionate I’ve ever been with another person.

She might call me fucker. She could think that I’m a sadist for this lesson.

Fine by me. Having her fingers dig into the gash in my forearm is just as acceptable.

Later, she’ll see it for what it is.

Later, she’ll thank me.

Later, I’ll get to fuck my captive. The girl I paid for.

The girl I’m training to become a killer.